Moron Law
by Red Witch
Summary: Mallory is just not having a good day. Then again, any day she has to clean up her son's messes is not a good one.


** The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters is trying not to get sued. I just wrote this because my tiny little mind was bored waiting for Season 10. **

**Moron Law **

"Well I didn't think I could be any more depressed," Mallory Archer walked in to find her staff goofing off in the bullpen. "But once again this group exceeds my expectations."

"That's a good thing, right?" Cheryl asked.

"It's a good thing you are paying us to **not** _kill you_," Mallory glared at her.

"What do you want us to do Mallory?" Lana asked as she looked up from her newspaper. "We haven't even gotten a call…"

RING! RING! RING!

"Well that was convenient," Cheryl remarked as a phone rang.

"It's my phone," Mallory groaned. "Damn it. This better not be another damn telemarketer."

"I don't know," Cheryl said. "I do enjoy talking to them for hours."

"That's probably why we don't get that many calls from them," Cyril remarked.

"Well that and you asking **them** for work," Lana said as she looked at Cyril.

"It's worth a try Lana!" Cyril snapped.

"Hello? Mallory Archer speaking," Mallory answered her phone. "What the hell do **you **want, you crazy bitch?"

"Well that could be anybody," Ray remarked.

"Trinette? How the hell did you **find me**?" Mallory shouted. "Oh. Right. The whole news thing about Sterling being shot by Veronica Deane. And the website for the Figgis Agency. That's **still up**?"

"I got a good deal on the website domain," Cyril shrugged. "It costs a lot less than you think."

"Well the Internet is the International Marketplace now," Krieger shrugged. "Which so much more convenient than downtown Marrakesh."

"Hang on," Mallory said. "Hang on! I said **hang on** bitch! That whole incident was months ago! Why are you just calling me **now**? Oh. That makes sense. So why are you calling? Child support payments? Is this a **joke**?"

"If it is," Cheryl said. "It's gotta be one hell of a punchline."

"You're not the only one that's **not amused**!" Mallory shouted into the phone. "Sterling is in a coma. No, a **real **coma. No, an **actual coma** after he got shot. Yes! **That's** still going on! I know! He's milking it! I know he is!"

"I knew it wasn't just me who was thinking that," Lana remarked.

"Trinette what do you **want **from me?" Mallory snapped into the phone. "Sterling is in a coma. Even I can't make him do any work when he's in a coma."

"And not for lack of trying," Cheryl added.

"CAROL SHUT UP!" Mallory shouted. "Listen Trinette, your problem is with Sterling. And since he's in a coma…What do you mean I'm the one responsible for him? Since **when?**"

"That is a good question actually," Ray remarked.

"Shut up!" Mallory groaned. "Oh no…No! No! Nooooooooooope! Forget it! I'm already paying more than enough for one bastard grandchild! I am not paying for **another one!"**

"To be fair," Lana groaned. "She barely pays for **that one."**

Mallory paused. "No. Not her. No. Not her either. It wasn't a hooker! It was Lana! Although I can understand your confusion. Lana Kane. The big black woman with the hands…YES HER! Yes. She had Sterling's baby too. A girl. Three now I think…Anyway…I don't care if you were first! I'm **not **paying child support for your bastard baby! Okay Seamus is technically not a baby anymore. All the **more reason**!"

"Trinette," Mallory said in an annoyed tone. "I may not be a lawyer, but even I know you can't force a man who is in a coma…Practically at death's door by the way…To pay child support! It's not like he can write a check! He's barely grasping at life, let alone hold a damn pen!"

Mallory did a double take. "**What estate**? The only thing in Sterling's name are a bunch of black turtlenecks, several half empty bottles of Glengoolie Blue and a used DVD set of Burt Reynolds' movies!"

"This is the first I'm hearing about the DVDs," Pam blinked.

"Well I don't see how this is **my problem** Trinette," Mallory snapped. "It's not my fault that you backed a losing alcoholic horse in a **coma**! Yeah well join the club! I've been paying for Sterling's mistakes for over 40 years! I have to draw the line **somewhere**! Guess where that line is drawn? Go ahead! Even I know I'm in the right here! Good luck with **that **bitch! Go ahead and sue me! You're not getting **a dime!"**

Mallory hung up her phone. "Cyril…I have a question…"

"You might be liable," Cyril admitted.

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted.

"You are the executor of Archer's estate," Cyril said.

"Again, **what estate**?" Mallory snapped.

"I was there when you signed the papers saying that you were responsible for Archer should anything happen to him!" Cyril snapped back. "And since Archer is in a coma you are technically legally responsible for him."

"So, I can legally pull the plug on him?" Mallory snapped. "Good to know!"

"It depends on what court system Trinette files the motion in," Cyril said. "The laws on legalities of coma patients vary from state to state. I really should look that up."

"She can't force **me** to pay, can she?" Lana asked.

"Oh no," Cyril said. "You're not married to Archer. You're in the clear."

"Oh good," Lana said.

"Of course," Cyril paused. "Since there is a precedent of Ms. Archer paying for AJ's schooling, they might be able to use that against you Mallory."

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted.

"Again, depends on which judge in which state hears the case," Cyril shrugged.

"And how open to bribes that judge is," Ray added.

"Great! Just what I wanted to do!" Mallory snapped. "Brush up on Moron Law in my spare time!"

RING! RING! RING!

"Is that our phone?" Ray asked.

"I think it is," Pam said. "Wow it's been so long I'd forgotten what it sounded like."

"You're going to forget what **breathing** sounds like if one of you doesn't answer it!" Mallory screamed.

"You don't have to yell," Pam went to get the phone. "Figgis Agency, Pam speaking. If you don't have a clue, this is the place to call. Trust me on this. What? Yeah, she's here. Hang on. Hey Ms. Archer it's for you!"

"Hello?" Mallory answered the phone. "Who is this? And I should care **why**…? What do you mean my son owes **you money**? Get in line!"

"Here we go again," Ray said.

"Look buster," Mallory growled. "My son is in a coma so he's no state to…What do you mean by I should pay? Oh no! It's bad enough some of Sterling's whores want my money. I sure as hell won't give it to a strip club! I don't care how hard it is to get marmalade out of suede! Tough cheese!"

She hung up the phone. "God damn it Sterling…I hate when this happens!"

"Is that a New York strip club or a Californian strip club?" Cyril asked.

"Crammers New York," Mallory said.

"Oh, then you're in the clear," Cyril said. "They can only sue Archer's estate. And since technically Archer doesn't have an estate…Well…"

"Oh good," Mallory sighed.

"If Archer wakes up, he is going to have a problem," Cyril said. "But not if he dies or remains in the coma another five years. That's when the statute of limitations runs out."

"You know a lot about strip club law, don't you?" Ray looked at Cyril. "Why is **that** Cyril?"

"Curiosity," Cyril tried to look innocent. "Mostly…"

"I think it's your curiosity that got you into situations where you needed to learn about strip club law," Pam laughed. "That reminds me. Cyril, I want to ask you a few questions later on."

"So do I," Ray realized.

"Me too," Krieger added.

"I so need to get better friends," Lana groaned.

"Ditto," Mallory groaned as her phone rang again. "Oh, what fresh hell is it now?"

She answered her phone. "Hello? Yes, this is Mallory Archer…What? An unpaid bill from Tom's Tiki Bar? Sterling owes **how much**?"

"_Thank God the Tiki Bar is open…"_ Ray sang.

"No, I am not paying **that**!" Mallory snapped. "Your problem is with Sterling! Not me! Uh that's a bit of a problem. He's in a coma. Yes! He's in an **actual coma**! No, it's not an excuse! Would you like me to give you his room number so you can see for yourself? Oh yeah? Good luck with that buster!"

Mallory hung up. "I swear to God I am tempted to pull that plug myself."

"Technically you can't just yet," Cyril explained. "Archer is not brain dead…"

"Despite popular opinion for years," Ray added.

"He's just not deteriorated far enough for you to legally pull him off his feeding tube," Cyril said. "But the minute he is, I have the paperwork all ready for you! Just have to sign."

Lana glared at Cyril. "You had that ready the first week Archer was in the coma, didn't you?"

"Technically I filled it out **before **Archer was in the coma," Cyril said. "What? Sometimes filling out forms relaxes me!"

Mallory's phone rang again. "Now I'm rooting for telemarketers…" Mallory groaned as she answered it. "Hello?"

Mallory paused. "Yes, this is she. What seems to be the problem? What about my son's hospital bill? Oh, really? Are you **sure** I put the wrong year in? Oh. Oh my. I am so sorry. I must have not been paying attention. I'm just so full of worry. And grief. Over my son being in a coma. Oh. Well of course I can fix it. When I visit Sterling tomorrow. My poor…Yes. First thing. I remember the way. Thank you."

Mallory hung up her phone. "Damn it. The billing department at the hospital is catching on faster every month!"

"You put the wrong year in **every month**?" Ray asked.

"Of course not," Mallory waved. "That would be too obvious. Sometimes I would put in the wrong person to bill. Or I would 'forget' to sign the check. Or put the date in at all."

"Anything to delay paying a few extra days," Cyril said.

"It used to be weeks," Mallory groaned. "God damn it! Sterling's medical bills alone could put me in hock. How much you want to bet they station someone right at Sterling's door to get me like last time? Bunch of vultures in surgical gowns."

"Blame the rising cost of health care," Lana said.

"I can't believe I am actually saying this…" Mallory groaned. "But I am seriously considering making a fake birth certificate for Sterling again. That way I can trick the socialists in Canada for paying for his medical bills!"

"_Again?"_ Lana did a double take.

"Not important," Mallory waved.

"Just say the word and I'll…" Krieger began.

"Stop!" Cyril held up his hand. "I don't want to know!"

"It's not like I haven't done it before," Krieger shrugged.

"I said stop!" Cyril snapped.

Mallory's phone rang again. "I wish **this** would stop," Mallory groaned. "God, I miss the days when I had unlimited burner phones."

Mallory answered her phone. "Mallory Archer. What do **you** want? What? How did you get my number? Oh. No Andrea I will **not** put Sterling on! Well for starters…A, I don't want to. B, Sterling is in a coma. And C. I **really** don't want to. No! I'm not going to tell you which hospital! Go away!"

"Crazy Andrea is out of the nuthouse huh?" Pam asked as Mallory hung up her phone.

"Technically she was never in," Mallory groaned. "Apparently she had a good lawyer."

"God, I haven't thought about her in years," Ray realized.

"And I could go a few more years without thinking about that lunatic," Mallory grumbled. "Why did Sterling ever hook up with that idiot in the first place?"

"Uh, because she had a working vagina?" Pam gave Mallory a look.

"That's the reason he hooked up with me," Cheryl admitted.

"Me too," Pam nodded. "And Lana."

"Don't remind me," Lana groaned.

Mallory's phone rang again. "This is ridiculous…" Mallory groaned as she answered. "Hello? Who is it **now**?"

"Oh, hello Reverend Fletcher…" Mallory groaned. "Let me guess, you're still harping on me to pay that ridiculous fee my idiot son promised you for Woodhouse's funeral?"

"Mallory just pay the man," Lana said. "Woodhouse was technically **your **employee!"

"Oh, all right!" Mallory snapped. "You win you vulture in black! How much? _Seriously?_ Oh, come on! He wasn't worth **that much**! Woodhouse was a drug addicted butler whose main expenses were heroin and prostitutes. It's not like we buried the Duke of York!"

Mallory fumed. "Oh, he **did**, did he? Well let me tell you something Reverend, my son has a habit of making promises he can't keep. Just ask the mothers of his children. Or any of his other prostitutes."

Mallory paused. "I don't suppose you would take some black turtlenecks in exchange, would you? I don't know. Regular men's large I suppose. Fine. In exchange for a fifteen percent discount I'll give you five turtlenecks. Okay ten turtlenecks. It's not like Sterling doesn't have plenty. By the way, would you prefer black or slightly off black? Oh. Okay that's good for me. Fine. By the end of the day. Goodbye."

Mallory sighed as she hung up the phone. "Pam, I need you to come with me to Sterling's storage locker. We need to get a bunch of turtlenecks that I packed with the rest of his things."

"Storage locker?" Lana asked. "What about Archer's apartment?"

"I stopped payment on that the first month Sterling was in the coma," Mallory said. "I'm not going to throw away good money just because Sterling has to be a drama queen."

"So Archer is technically **homeless**?" Cyril's ears perked up. "HA!"

"That just made **your day** didn't it?" Ray asked with a sigh.

"It really did," Cyril grinned.

"It's bad enough I have to pay for a storage locker to keep all of Sterling's crap in," Mallory groaned. "And it's not even good crap. I know because I had a lot of it appraised. Selling most of it won't even pay for a decent scotch."

"I'm surprised you just didn't take all his shit and stuff it in his office," Ray said. "It would be a lot cheaper."

"Son of a…" Mallory groaned. "New plan. Pam, Ray you're coming with me to get Sterling's things. And I need to stop payment on a check."

"Why me?" Ray asked.

"Why didn't you tell me about this **months ago**?" Mallory shouted.

"I want to come too," Cyril said.

"On my…" Pam began.

"No Pam!" Mallory snapped. She turned to Cyril. "Why?"

"Just for giggles," Cyril shrugged. "The thought of Archer's meager possessions lying in storage…All shut up and away from the world like their owner…"

"It's kind of a cheerful thought for you isn't it?" Cheryl asked cheerfully.

"It really is," Cyril said.

"Now I want to go," Cheryl said.

"**I'm** going to go," Lana stood up. "To find someplace with **sane people**!"

"Take me with you," Mallory moaned.


End file.
